The Hobbit

said Dori, who was always looking up towards the Mountain’s peak, as if he expected to see Smaug perched there like a bird on a steeple.
    “We must take our chance of that,” said Thorin. “We can go no further to-day.”
    “Hear, hear!” cried Bilbo, and flung himself on the ground.
    In the rock-chamber there would have been room for a hundred, and there was a small chamber further in, more removed from
     the cold outside. It was quite deserted; not even wild animals seemed to have used it in all the days of Smaug’s dominion.
     There they laid their burdens; and some threw themselves down at once and slept, but the others sat near the outer door and
     discussed their plans. In all their talk they came perpetually back to one thing: where was Smaug? They looked West and there
     was nothing, and East there was nothing, and in the South there was no sign of the dragon, but there was a gathering of very
     many birds. At that they gazed and wondered; but they were no nearer understanding it, when the first cold stars came out.

Chapter
XIV
FIRE AND WATER
    Now if you wish, like the dwarves, to hear news of Smaug, you must go back again to the evening when he smashed the door and
     flew off in rage, two days before.
    The men of the lake-town Esgaroth were mostly indoors, for the breeze was from the black East and chill, but a few were walking
     on the quays, and watching, as they were fond of doing, the stars shine out from the smooth patches of the lake as they opened
     in the sky. From their town the Lonely Mountain was mostly screened by the low hills at the far end of the lake, through a
     gap in which the Running River came down from the North. Only its high peak could they see in clear weather, and they looked
     seldom at it, for it was ominous and drear even in the light of morning. Now it was lost and gone, blotted in the dark.
    Suddenly it flickered back to view; a brief glow touched it and faded.
    “Look!” said one. “The lights again! Last night the watchmen saw them start and fade from midnight until dawn. Something is
     happening up there.”
    “Perhaps the King under the Mountain is forging gold,” said another. “It is long since he went North. It is time the songs
     began to prove themselves again.”
    “Which king?” said another with a grim voice. “As like as not it is the marauding fire of the Dragon, the only king under
     the Mountain we have ever known.”
    “You are always foreboding gloomy things!” said the others. “Anything from floods to poisoned fish. Think of something cheerful!”
    Then suddenly a great light appeared in the low place in the hills and the northern end of the lake turned golden. “The King
     beneath the Mountain!” they shouted. “His wealth is like the Sun, his silver like a fountain, his rivers golden run! The river
     is running gold from the Mountain!” they cried, and everywhere windows were opening and feet were hurrying.
    There was once more a tremendous excitement and enthusiasm. But the grim-voiced fellow ran hotfoot to the Master. “The dragon
     is coming or I am a fool!” he cried. “Cut the bridges! To arms! To arms!”
    Then warning trumpets were suddenly sounded, and echoed along the rocky shores. The cheering stopped and the joy was turned
     to dread. So it was that the dragon did not find them quite unprepared.
    Before long, so great was his speed, they could see him as a spark of fire rushing towards them and growing ever huger and
     more bright, and not the most foolish doubted that the prophecies had gone rather wrong. Still they had a little time. Every
     vessel in the town was filled with water, every warrior was armed, every arrow and dart was ready, and the bridge to the land
     was thrown down and destroyed, before the roar of Smaug’s terrible approach grew loud, and the lake rippled red as fire beneath
     the awful beating of his wings. Amid shrieks and wailing and the shouts of men he came over them, swept towards the bridges and was foiled! The bridge was
     gone, and his enemies were on an island in deep water—too deep and dark and cool for his liking. If he plunged into it, a
     vapour and a steam would arise enough to cover all the land with a mist for days; but the lake was mightier than he, it would
     quench him before he could pass through.
    Roaring he swept back over the town. A hail of dark arrows leaped up and snapped and rattled on his scales and jewels, and
     their shafts fell back kindled by his breath burning